


who rouses the gods to desire

by pyotr



Series: assassin's creed works [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, reference to non-consensual (but not really) touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 08:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20690270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyotr/pseuds/pyotr
Summary: it is dark save the lights from the dim gas lamps outside, his home quiet and still. aleck lay on his back on his bed- too small by half, and narrow, his feet hanging off the other end if he stretched full out- and closes his eyes.





	who rouses the gods to desire

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [by lust ever conquered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531024) by [Cicadaemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicadaemon/pseuds/Cicadaemon). 

> inspired by (and direct sequel to) the work of a friend who decided that aleck's missions were ripe for the sex pollen trope
> 
> please read that first, as i do specifically reference it, and it won't really make a ton of sense without it (but this is pwp so does it need to make sense?)

aleck had thought on that day often over the past few weeks, in the guilty way that one does with indulgent daydreams, but it never stopped feeling _wrong._

oh, the feelings themselves were pleasant enough- the heat from jacob’s body a visceral thing and the weight of him pinning aleck to the wall, his breath against aleck’s skin, his mouth pressed just briefly to the spot beneath aleck’s ear- but it’s the _afterwards _that always leaves him unhappy, when reality comes creeping back and he is alone in his room in the dark. 

_he was poisoned, _he’ll think, and the guilt rolls in. it had been obvious enough to anyone with eyes that jacob hadn’t been in his right mind.

and yet, aleck couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. what did that say about him?

he'd thought jacob had flirted in the past- all deliberate glance-overs and purred innuendos- but he’d never been able to be sure, even as the assassin stepped away whenever his sister swept into the room. he almost wished that jacob would have kissed him; then, at least, he could have pretended there was some feeling there, could feel less wretched about it all. 

it is dark save the lights from the dim gas lamps outside, his home quiet and still. aleck lay on his back on his bed- too small by half, and narrow, his feet hanging off the other end if he stretched full out- and closes his eyes. 

jacob had been here in his bed, at least for a few hours, after evie had put him to sleep. aleck wasn’t entirely sure of how long; he’d popped in long enough to stammer some excuse out to evie and then left, walking nowhere in particular, and had turned towards home only when the sky began to darken and the shadows lengthened.

they were gone by the time he returned, but if he tried hard enough he could almost pretend he could smell jacob on his pillow, that leather-and-gunpowder scent of him.

he imagines, now as he lays there, jacob’s hands- or rather, _hand _singular. he thinks of the way that jacob had pressed his mouth to his throat with the barest scrape of teeth, enough to make him shudder, the way he’d palmed him through his trousers. the ease with which jacob had been able to pin him made something twist and tighten warmly in aleck’s gut.

“blast,” he mutters to himself, shaking hands going to the button of his trousers and tugging them halfway down his thighs. to aleck’s shame he was already half hard just _thinking _about it, and his face heated with embarrassment even though he was alone.

he spits in his palm and sighs as he curls his fingers loosely around his prick, thumb stroking gently over soft skin. he wonders, almost wistfully, what would have happened had miss frye not stopped jacob, had she not been there at all. aleck wasn’t sure he’d have the strength of will to stop the man on his own, let alone any _physical _strength needed to push him away.

not that aleck minded. in fact, it was quite the opposite.

he pretends that it was jacob’s hand on his cock instead, imagined that he could still feel the other man’s breath against his neck, mouth searingly hot on his skin. he’d only seen jacob’s hands once or twice without gloves; his were callused differently than aleck’s, hardened and torn from climbing and fighting. he’d been able to touch, once, when he’d attached the rope launcher to his bracer; aleck had pressed his thumbs against jacob’s swollen knuckles and jacob had smiled quicksilver-sharp, said, _admiring my souvenirs?_

he’d said it in the same teasing sort of voice that he said everything else, though then he’d been close enough for it to have been almost suggestive, the way he’d glanced up at aleck with some strange, heavy look. just that had been enough to make aleck laugh nervously and drop his hand like he’d been burnt, and jacob’s smirk had split into a grin, and aleck had looked away and hastily changed the subject.

he’d thought about that for a long while, too.

_what a tease your are, aleck. _jacob had been very, _very_ close when he’d said that, close enough that aleck more felt the words rather than heard him, and aleck had flushed with it all- the suddenness, the nearness, the _implication. _he’d sworn his knees had gone weak, would have slid right down to the floor had jacob not had him pressed against the wall. _touching me so lewdly._

he stifles a quiet moan against his palm as he drags the pad of his thumb across his cockhead, catching the slick moisture gathered there. he’s warm, warm enough that even with the windows open he can feel sweat beading on his skin, his forehead and at the small of his back, shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin. still though, he whines a little when he tightens his grip and quickens his strokes, thrusting shallowly into his fist.

he wonders if jacob would have kissed him, if he would have used his hand or if he would have sunk to his knees and taken aleck into his mouth. the thought shoots through him like a bolt of lightning; the image of jacob, his lips stretched ‘round aleck’s prick, feels as breathless as a punch to the gut.

“jacob,” he whispers against his palm, voice cracking in the middle and his breath hitching up at the end. he wishes he could say it to more than just himself and an empty room, but the thought of even _looking _at jacob- after this, after what happened before- makes something flip nervously in his stomach.

jacob had been able to say his name at the time, low and teasing, _aleck, aleck, aleck._

when he finishes it’s with jacob’s name on his lips, fantasizing about his hands, his mouth. for everything else though aleck is _quiet _with it, gives only a whimpering sort of gasp as he digs his heels into the mattress, squeezes his eyes shut so hard that he sees stars dancing behind his lids. 

after though, after, with the sweat cooling on his skin and his heartbeat slowing to a steady rhythm, aleck opens his eyes to an empty room, dark and lit only by the dim gaslights lining the street outside.


End file.
